Remember?
by potternerd
Summary: When faced with death, the moment their eyes lock is the most precious of all they have shared. I own NOTHIIIING.
1. Cursed

'Hermione.' He growled, dangerously close to her ear.

She jumped quickly, startled: and turned around to face her stalker. Or rather, the stalkee, since she had followed him here. He had hidden in the shadows as he watched her tentatively climb the stairs to the top of the Astronomy Tower: hidden, as he should always have stayed, he cursed himself for that.

'Draco,' the girl started to say, 'What do you think you're doing?' Her voice was quiet, but still more dangerous than when she was loud, and fiery... This meant she was angrily, he thought.

'My _mission_,' he spat out, 'my stupid, godforsaken _mission_ that I told you _explicitly not to get involved in_.' He emphasized his words by taking a step towards her, backing her out to the balcony with each word. He grasped her by the shoulders, intending to shake her senseless, when she pressed her lips against his.

Feverishly, fervently, she kissed him like there was no tomorrow: because for her, there probably wasn't. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him closer: this was as happy an ending as she was going to get, and she knew it.

Any way this ended was going to leave her heartbroken: Draco could choose Light, and die, or he could choose Dark, and kill.

He felt her tears as they slid onto his cheek, and pulled back, kissing them away. 'Don't cry, Mione, don't do this...' he repeated, crying himself and for all that should have been, had he been somebody else. 'I'm so sorry, Mione, I'm sorry.'

Her eyes, that had previously been brimming with tears that streaked her face, were back to their usual fire, as she slapped him once across the face. 'Draco Lucius Malfoy. Don't. You. Dare.' She shrieked as she pounded him on the chest, her fists fierce little punches winding him greatly.

He was crying freely from his steely eyes as he snatched her wrists from trying to punch him again, and with his other hand, cupped her face up towards his.

'I'm not sorry for us. I'm sorry that I became a Death Eater,' he rolled up the sleeve of his robe, and exposed the writhing black expanse, the tattoo that labelled him as Dark, 'I'm sorry that I am the thing that you fight against, and I'm sorry that I fell in love with you.'

His voice broke as she backed away, eyes widening in anger and pain: 'You're sorry for _loving _me? For _being with me_?' She yelped as a sob wracked her body, knees buckling beneath her as she fell to the floor: '_DRACO MALFOY, DEATH EATER, SLYTHERIN, PIGHEADED, PUREBLOODED, ELITIST BULLY, don't you DARE ever tell me you're sorry for being in love_,' she yelled, her voice cracking with the agony it took for her to say that, as the anger that coursed through her body boiled her blood: he really had her riled up.

'Silly,' he smile wavering but present on his face, 'I didn't mean it like that... you know I wouldnt,' he kissed her, 'I never could.' He pulled her closer, and wrapped his arms around her: holding her tight against him, breathing her in, letting her wholeness, her innocence, her Light.

His face crumpled as the desolateness that filled his chest, that made him hollow filled his mind: as he dwelled on what he had to do. He pushed her to arms length, butterflies filling his gut as his stomach twisted, 'Hermione you have to-'

His eyes widened in shock as Bellatrix Lestrange floated up the stairs, her robes billowing like tattered sheets caught in a breeze: she was simply spectacular. Darkness practically emanated from every pore, every fibre of her body reeked of stank, stale hatred for the lives of those who she had killed, and who she planned to kill. Malevolent eyes met the terrified crystal grey ones, and a smug smiled spread across her face. She sunk back to the ground as other Death Eaters, silver masks hiding half their faces, flanked her up the stairs: he recognised many as being there at his Initiation. Yaxely, Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson... _wheres Greyback_, he wondered.

Her shrill, colourless voice spread across the gap between them. 'Little Baby Malfoy has a _toy_!' She giggled insanely, her voice high like a schoolgirl, a grin playing about her full lips that curved upwards in a sneer.

'Draky. Leave the mudblood and lets _go._' Pansy Parkinson said, sneering her pinched face towards the girl, who she obviously believed was beneath her. She grasped the pale boys forearm with her clammy, bleeding hand, flinching slightly as he shrugged her off.

He was stood, stock still. The colour had drained from his face, leaving his alabaster skin slightly grey, his eyes looked haunted and misted over, as if far away. He was, he was wondering how it had all came to this. That he had sunk t o this? That he was one of _them_? No, he told himself. I never could be.

I _love_. Love is what defeats the Dark Lord: it is what he does not have. In that way, I can leave this, leave him like Sever-

His train of thought ended abruptly as the final mask of the Death Eater beside Bellatrix lifted up his mask. _Severus Snape_. Oh god, I can't leave... Not ever. His eyes turned cold again, the hope that was previously lit in them extinguished. Hermione watched, her anguish building as she thought she finally lost Draco to the Dark: her face sunk, eyes hollowed inwards as she felt her heart was being frozen, or held in a vice. Her breath caught in her throat: she didn't know if she could ever speak again, the lump in her chest was so big it might burst.

'Crucio,' Bellatrix giggled, and watched, entranced as Hermione writhed on the floor, every inch of her body feeling like it was alight with fiendfyre. Her face contorted as her body was crushed between two invisible anvils, she thought her bones would grind to dust. She heard Draco's voice, like music, she thought blithely, wow, his voice is distant and obscure. Like it was far away.

She felt like she was sinking backwards into oblivion, where nothing could touch her...

'STOP!' Draco screamed at his aunt, his voice choked and hoarse, rattling as it escaped. His eyes were streaming as Bellatrix turned to him, staring contemptuously at the girl sputtering and gasping for air at her feet. She grunted as she was kicked in the ribs slightly, rolled over onto her back by the long, pointed toe of Bella's tattered black boot. '_Draky_,' she said, a poor imitation of the simpering Parkinson, 'I think your _master_ would really rather...' she paused selecting the right word, 'be more inclined to _favour_ saving your family if you...' Her voice trailed off as she tittered, insanely laughing as her pouted lips formed the words slowly, torturing Draco with her voice... 'kill the little mudblood.'

He felt suddenly like his mind was catapulted backwards, a life without Hermione? A life knowing he was the end of her?

A life where he wouldn't see her, speak to her... tell her he loved her, ever again? His heart broke clean in two, as he looked into her eyes. She had given up on him: 'Mione.' he choked out, his voice a brash whisper as he sunk to his knees. A wand pressed into the nape of his neck as he felt Bellatrix's stale breath on his neck, breathing into his ear.

'Draco, you are branded with the Dark Mark... does she _know_? Potters little whore, fraternising with the enemy... we can stop this.' she paused, flicking her wand from Draco's neck to Hermiones upturned, sickly grey face: _'Avada Kedav-'_

'NO!' An inhuman shriek erupted, making the walls shudder with the keening cry as Draco threw himself into the path of the curse, his and Hermione's eyes searching eachothers, for some reason to explain why it was ending like this... Her eyes were pulled and the tears spilled over: the pain of the Cruciatus Curse was nothing compared to the agony her heart was in, as their eyes locked... and found meaning for all this pain.

Love.


	2. The Train

Draco Malfoy looked more hawkish than usual. His eyes, ever prominent in his face, were shadowed by dark circles underneath his eyes: a contrast to his silver eyes and alabaster skin. With his platinum hair no longer slick against his head, but rather falling forward in a carefully-arranged-not-to-look-carefully-arranged kind of way, he cast an impressive profile. _Hmm_, he thought to himself. _This year should be interesting_Hermione Granger was alone. _Thats odd_, thought the pale blond boy. _Wonder where Potty, Weasel and the Weaslette are?_ _Or even Loony and Longbottom, for that matter. _He scanned his eyes around the platform, allowing his eyes to once again linger on Hermione.

She stood tall, her back rigid against the wall as she faced down, her head immersed in a book. She'd cut her hair shorter, he realised, and it no longer sprung from her head like a toiletbrush. It coiled and curled, ending in gently blonde-brown curls at the nape of her neck. Around her neck was a gold chain, with a small charm attached to the end: it looked like letters, but he couldn't make out what it said. She was slimmer than she had been before the summer, and more tanned, her sun dark after days spent in the sun at the Hovel or whatever the Weasels' house was called. His eyes drifted over her face, it was symmetrical. _She's kind of beautiful_, he thought wonderingly. _Gryffindork Princess. Potter's Friend. Gryffindor. And really rather beautiful_, he shocked himself by thinking. His eyes explored her face even more_. _Her almond eyes were a kind of caramel colour, the same colour as Honeydukes fudge, he mused. I wonder what it would be like if she looked at me the way she looked at Weasel, he nearly found himself thinking. He didn't let his eyes linger on her lips, but drew his eyes back to her now dirty blonde coloured hair. She had obviously discovered the joy of transfiguration, or was simply gifted like infernal with Tinks or something, she was called, he thought. It was swept up in a bun, but wisps kept tumbling away from the band it was tied in, and over her face. He watched her forehead crinkle in annoyance as it did, and her eyes dart up from over her book to look at him as she pushed her hair out of her eyes.

'Like what you see, Malfoy?' She smiled. Like _actually_ smiled, he thought. _What's going on here?_

'Don't. Like I'd ever even think about glancing at a-' he paused and made a point of looking at her, top to toe before answering. '_Mudblood_.' He snarled, turning on his heel: his broad, black clad back stalking purposefully away from her. But not before returning the smile, even if it did look still rather like a smirk. Her eyes flashed annoyance: she obviously thought this was some ruse to get her to fight: to hex or curse him. He turned once more as he was walking away, and flashed her a genuine smile: then felt rather sick.

He'd just had a near civil conversation with a mudblood. No, worse than that, _Hermione Granger._

And he'd _smiled at her!_ 'What is the world coming to,' he huffed, as he heaved his heavy case onto the train.

***

_Did Malfoy just smile at me_? She wondered, her eyes wide. She could barely comprehend the situation: her, the brightest witch of the age, stumped by a mere smile. Who would have thought it. _Harry and Ron would smile all the time if they thought it would stop me nagging them about Homework..._ She smiled absently, her hand trailing along the curve of the intertwined R and H that Ron had given her upon leaving fifth year, a promise to eachother that as soon as the war was over, and Voldemort was dead for good, they would be together. She sighed, remembering the last night at the Burrow: they'd talked til the sun rose, and fell asleep together. He'd stroked her hair and told her he loved her, she remembered. He felt comfortable, when they were together. Comfortable, but not electric. There was love, definitely, but no spark. She wondered if that just meant they were special, but a part of her always doubted it was this. She never allowed these thoughts to linger long though.

She stared at his back as he walked away, his lush green silk robes billowing underneath his black cloak. _The cloak looks familiar_, she thought. She knew she'd seen it before.... A small thought crept into her mind. _Death Eater_, the voice said. Cold, harsh, unforgiving. The words wiped the smile away from her face and painted it into a dark scowl. _I'll ask Harry what he thinks. _

She grabbed her large suitcase and heaved it up onto the train, lightly jumping on afterwards. She noticed she was drawing more attention than she used too, and a blush crept up her neck. Her ears were tinged pink beneath her messy curls. She headed for the compartment where she, Harry and Ronald always sat. Her heart skipped a beat. _Ron._ She smiled to herself and stepped her pace up. She'd missed him this past summer: the two weeks they had had at the beginning hadn't been enough for her, not really. She remembered him taking her hand under the table as they told his parents (and Harry,) that they were together.

_Molly Weasley's eyes lit up, pride practically emanating from every pore of her body._

_Hermione swivelled her brown eyes around the table, nerves making her chew her bottom lip, Ron squeezing her hand harder. His palm was sweaty, but she didn't care._

_He was holding her hand. Her hand! _

_She beamed around the table, her eyes fixing on Harry. Oh god, she remembered thinking, I wonder what he says... _

_Then she remembered the way he had jumped up, his eyes unreadable. He'd stalked around to their side of the table, and squared up to Ron, who by now was standing. He protectively put his arm across her as Harry strode up and squared up to him. How warm his arm had felt...._

_And then undescribable joy as Harry grinned wolfishly and said 'About bloody time!', and hugged them..._

She brought herself out of her reverie, still feeling the warm, rosy glow of happiness from her memory. It was strange the way her friends made her feel so warm, so complete. 'Not friends, Mione, you and Ron are actually together now.' She corrected herself, and sat in the compartment with Luna, Neville and Ginny. She met the dazed smile of Luna, and the slightly awkward grimace of Neville as he grappled with his toad, and the content, almost wistful smile of fiery Ginevra Weasley.

'Hello Mione,' she smiled wryly. 'Harry and Ron just went to get their robes on.' She motioned at Hermione's unchanged outfit: a pale blue sweater with a cream cordouroy skirt and thick cream tights. 'I do like your boots though Mione!' She smiled, and looked down at Mione's legs. She'd grown alot over the summer, and the boots highlighted that. They were calf length, and leather. Shiny, chestnut coloured and really brought out her eyes: Ginny thought Hermione looked beautiful and was rather suspicious. 'This isn't all for Ron is it? You know he won't notice.' She gave her 'the look', her voice patronising. _Rather like her mother_, Hermione thought drily.

'See you Gin.' She waved, and nodded as she said 'Luna, Neville.' Dashing out of the compartment, her robes bundled infront of her face, she didn't notice where she was going and suddenly:

Crashed into someone and landed straight on her arse. In the middle of the carriage.

'Oh God, let me help you up.' A large pale hand reached down to help her up. She gratefully took it, and looked up, cheeks flaming red, to thank her savior.... and looking right back down at her, his face a picture of shock and amazement, was Malfoy. 'Malfoy?'

'Filthy mudblood,' he spat, his mouth contorting viciously, his pale eyes glinting with malice. 'Watch where you're bloody walking, you idiot,' and shoved her back down onto the floor, looking at her like she was something he'd find on the bottom of his shoe.

Her fists balled up, knuckles white 'Ferret.'

Hermione uttered the word so quietly she barely thought it more than a breath. Although, when she found herself pinned up against the wall, two fierce fists pushing her shoulders, she realised that he must have heard her... Tears sprung to her eyes as she stood staring fearfully up into the malevolent, misted eyes of Draco Malfoy.

He had never been this close to her, he thought. He could see the smattering of freckles, dashed lightly upon her nose. The tears welling up in the corners of her beautiful amber eyes: light and sweet and everything he wasn't. They stared defiantly into his own, and he felt his resolve waver as he looked into those eyes: he had thought to scare her, to hit her, shout at her.... now he wanted to do something else entirely.

He'd never been more confused in his life: this was _Hermione Granger_. The mudblood, epitomy of all he hated. She was Potters best friend... The Weasels' girl... She was nothing but a stupid muggle with filthy blood, no right to the magic that flowed, a life of its own, through her veins...

_She had no right to be beautiful, either. _He shook the unwanted thoughts from his mind, as undeniably true they may be...

'Listen'-he paused, his eyes glistening with the venom that coloured his voice, bitter and harsh-'I may be... a Slytherin, the son of a Death Eater, and.... well,' his eyes glinted maliciously as he looked towards his forearm that was pinning Granger to the wall of the carriage, 'I'll leave that to you to decide for yourself.' He tucked a wispy tendril of hair behind her hair, a caring gesture he somehow turned violent with his tugging touch, and leaned in, breathing against her ear. 'But if I _ever_ hear you call me a ferret again, you'll be sorry. I can make your life a living hell.' He moved back. 'Or just kill you.' Hermione's eyes filled with fear, and he laughed derisively, as all the courage drained from her face. 'What's wrong Granger? Scared?'

And stalking away, he couldn't help but wonder why _her_ saying that, not anyone else, bothered him as much. He risked a glance back round at Granger, and saw her slumped against the wall, her eyes blank and glassy: tears streaking down her face, fierce little fists with nails digging into them, _At least she feels miserable now, too_.

Hermione Granger couldn't understand it: it was her that everyone picked on, taunted. All for being smart and actually studying, not worrying about boys or make up or love potions or Quidditch. No, classes and grades. She tried so hard... the tears dripped off her chin, and she wiped them away with her sleeve and started to carry on walking to where she thought Harry and Ron might be, hoping her eyes weren't too red and that there were no more unfortunate incidents like the _Malfoy_ one...

* * *

yay, so i got my second chapter for this one up. yes, its taking me a while. i reaaaally dont care, because ive been busy lately. but its half term, so. :D i was going to write a valentines fanfic, but i thought that a new chapter would suffice.

please read and review, the reviews mean so much because it means i can make the stories better

thank youuu (L)


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